<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>wandering under lightless skies by Minutia_R</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24308089">wandering under lightless skies</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minutia_R/pseuds/Minutia_R'>Minutia_R</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Shadows of our Yesterdays - Snow White Blood (Song)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Abusive Relationships, Dark, Fairy Tale Retellings, Gen, Human Sacrifice, Implied/Referenced Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 03:15:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,248</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24308089</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minutia_R/pseuds/Minutia_R</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Hykea trusts her brother Samo. She has to--there's no one else.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Jukebox 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>wandering under lightless skies</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Solanaceae/gifts">Solanaceae</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sometimes Hykea dreams she’s home. She wakes from another dream into this one: a bed, cheerful morning light through the curtains, a kettle whistling on the stove, and the smell of good things baking in the oven. She turns over and pulls the covers up to her chin, luxuriating in comfort and idleness. But soon the smell of cinnamon and vanilla is too much, and Hykea can’t resist nibbling on the edge of her blanket. It’s as soft as a cloud, melting on her tongue like spun sugar. She finishes the blanket and starts on the mattress, and then the bedframe, which is a rich shortcake. Now she has nowhere to sleep.</p><p>Everything is delicious. Hykea can’t stop herself. She will have no home left soon. Something is burning in the oven, and Hykea rushes to open it. She has no towel, the pain in her hand is unbearable, she pulls and pulls but the door is stuck fast and the house is filling with smoke…</p><p>And then she wakes up again. She wonders for a moment if this too is a dream, this bed of pine needles on the forest floor, this hunger sitting like a stone in her belly. She must have a real life, another life than this.</p><p>When Father first left them in the forest--when Hykea first understood that he was gone, and she and Samo were lost--she used to imagine that each turning of their path through the undergrowth would bring them to a house, the house of some kind person who would take them in and feed them. Sometimes she imagined it so hard that the broad trunk of a tree behind another seemed like a wall, a hanging bough like roof-thatch.</p><p>But there is no kind stranger. Even in her dreams, the refuge she finds turns against her. It’s only her and Samo.</p><p>Samo has found breakfast. Greens, bitter and tough to chew. A few eggs stolen from a nest, small and bright as pebbles. Hykea hates the slimy feeling as the insides slip down her throat. Samo watches her eat intently. He always saves the most for her.</p><p>Why can’t we go home? she used to ask Samo. He would look at her sidelong and ask if Hykea really wanted to go back to <i>her</i>, and Hykea would hang her head and try to cover her bruises and welts. They’ve faded by now. The hunger hasn’t.</p><p>Anyway, Samo hates it when she whines. She’s learned to bite her lips and say nothing. She puts one foot in front of the other and hopes Samo knows where they’re going.</p><p>By afternoon, her legs are aching from cold and weariness. She wants to rest, but if he can keep walking, then she can. Then suddenly, she stumbles, throwing up her arm to block the stabbing pain in her eyes. Bright, bright, like someone is thrusting a red-hot poker in her face. She falls onto her back, afraid Samo will be angry with her clumsiness, but instead he laughs.</p><p>“It’s only the sun, Hykea,” he says, sitting next to her and ruffling her hair. Tears begin to leak from her eyes, not because of the pain, but because this is how it used to be, isn’t it? Before trouble turned Samo’s voice bitter, his hands rough and impatient. And Father would be there too, sitting in his chair by the fire, whittling something out of wood. A bird for Hykea, maybe, or a toy soldier for Samo.</p><p>Hykea wipes her eyes on her dirty sleeve, blinking. It’s not so bad now. The sun has warmed the large, flat rock that tripped her up. It warms her as she lies on it. It’s been so long since she’s seen the sun. Samo is smiling.</p><p>“This is the place,” he says. “I knew I’d find it. They’ve been calling me in my dreams.”</p><p>Has he been dreaming too? It’s funny. She turns to him--his hand is still in her hair--and says, “Who?”</p><p>“The spirits who live in this glade. The old ones. They’re here now. Can’t you tell?” His smile is hard and sharp, and his eyes look past her. Hykea is warmer than she’s been in days, but she shivers. “Don’t you remember how Father left us, Hykea? How <i>she</i> hurt you? I do. And the spirits have promised me the power to pay them back, blood for blood.”</p><p>He tugs on her hair--gently, still--and her head falls back. He reaches for his pocket, where he keeps his knife. A little one, but Samo sharpens it every day, and its edge is wicked. With a gasp, Hykea shoves herself to her feet, scalp burning as she leaves a handful of hair in Samo’s fist. She runs.</p><p>Where, where? Back into the dark, through the silent spruces and oaks, tripping on roots and catching herself on rough-barked trunks. Her legs hurt, her insides ache with emptiness, her palms are scraped and raw. Where? Away. She has to get away.</p><p>When she can’t run anymore, and she doesn’t hear anyone coming after her, she looks for a place to hide. If she squeezes herself between two great roots, if she curls up small, if she grabs leaves by the handful and piles them up on top of herself as well as she can, maybe no one will see, even if they come quite close.</p><p>She doesn’t know how long it is before she hears Samo. She made no effort to cover her trail while she ran; he knows she’s come this way, but as she peers up through her covering of leaves, he walks past without seeing her.</p><p>“Where are you, Hykea?” he calls softly. “Come back. I was only playing. I thought you’d understand.”</p><p>Playing?</p><p>Samo is her only friend. Samo takes care of her. If he’d meant to abandon her, he could have done it long before, but he won’t, even now when she’s run from him. Could he really have meant what she thought, back in the glade, that cold impersonal violence? Isn’t it more likely that she took fright over nothing?</p><p>He sounds so kind. Better to show herself now, before he gets angry.</p><p>Hykea starts to rise, and Samo’s attention is attracted by the rustling leaves. He helps her up, brushes leaves and dirt off her shoulders. “Silly little sister,” he says. “Don’t you know you can trust me?”</p><p>She has to. There’s no one else. Alone in the forest, she’ll die.</p><p>Dinner is waiting for her back in the glade. Mushrooms. If only they had some way to cook them, or to pickle them! But Hykea is determined that Samo won’t see her complain. He already ate his share while he was gathering them. He always saves the most for her.</p><p>The sun is gone, but the stone is still warm and wonderful to lie on. The stars overhead glow like sparks from a hearthfire. There are spirits in the glade--Samo was right--and they cluster around Hykea curiously, with long faces and twisted limbs. They sidle up to Samo and whisper in his ear, and he takes his knife from his pocket, its edge bright in the dark.</p><p>Hykea’s limbs are heavy and still; she cannot run or even move. She screams, and no sound comes out.</p><p>It’s a dream. It must be.</p><p>Samo smiles at her and cradles her face with his hand. His knife kisses her throat.</p><p>Wake up. Wake--</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks to E for the beta</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>